


Living with an Invisible Boyfriend

by frankenbolt



Category: Drop Dead Fred (1991)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Oral Fixation, beetlejuice crossover, how to live with your invisible boyfriend, mentions of oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenbolt/pseuds/frankenbolt
Summary: In the same universe as Three Times Dead, but you don't need to read it to get this. A small fluffy fic of how Lizzie deals with living with a man no-one else can see.





	Living with an Invisible Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be pure fluff but apparently I just can't help myself. Ooops.

Living with an invisible boyfriend has it’s problems.

Of course, now that Lizzie was positive that he wasn’t just in her head, she was able to go about her life with a bit more confidence. Normal people couldn’t see Fred, but occasionally, someone would turn to face the direction he stood in as he spoke, or sniffed the air curiously as he drifted past...Or winced when they touched the same surface he touched.

Yes, he was very much real. He was deader than disco but he was real.

So when she went to the market to pick up groceries, she became accustomed to little accidents following her. Asking a Poltergeist to curb his impulses seemed like a reckless challenge for him to up the ante. Lizzie found she got more done by ignoring the small messes he made. 

All it did was make him crave her attention all the more.

“Liiiiiizzzzziiiieeeeee~” Fred was cackling over the literal lake of spilt milk in the dairy aisle behind her. “Hey. Hey Lizzie. Look! Think this’ll cause some nice splashy accidents?”

“Maybe.” Lizzie didn’t even turn to look, busily reading the back of a packet. 

He was put-out, eyeing his fantastic milky mess and pulled a face at her back, disappearing with a disjointed jangle of chords and reappearing to sit on top of the shelves she was currently perusing.

“How many Cow tits d’you reckon it took to make all that?” Fred persisted, shuffling along so his legs dangled in front of Lizzie’s face. She merely reached behind his ankle to pull out a container and dropped it into her basket. “D’you think it was one big enormous cow or a few little skinny tarts?”

“I really couldn’t tell you.” Lizzie frowned at her basket. “Oh I forgot eggs.”

“I’ll get them!” Fred perked up and disappeared before she had a chance to rethink her words.

Shrugging, she hurried down the aisle to the check-out, figuring he’d be back by the time she’d paid up.

Of course this was a rather short-sighted plan on her part. 

As she was loading the truck with her groceries, two police cars pulled up, scattering the quiet Wednesday morning customers. Several officers stormed the sleepy little store, and Lizzie heard the jangle of musical chords announcing her boyfriend’s arrival once again. She chose to ignore the fact he was dripping with what had to be several dozen yolks to gratefully accept the carton he brandished at her.

“...Fred there’s only one egg in here.”

“Want me to squeeze some out of my jacket for you? Pretty sure I’ve got a few omelettes worth in here.” Fred shrugged out of his jacket, revealing his only slightly better off yellow t-shirt, his bare wrists and forearms still glistening with eggy residue.

“No, it’s fine.” Lizzie grinned. “I was going to make a cake but-”

Fred whined loudly at this, falling backwards into the truck bed, his red boots dangling over the side. “Why didn’t you bloody say that’s what they were for?!”

“Do you want to ride back there? Or do you want to sit up front with me?”

“...I’ll stay here.”

“Ok sweetie.”  
\---  
Alternatively, living with an Invisible boyfriend comes with some choice benefits.  
Considering how mundane the job of managing a hardware store in a town of two hundred people was, Lizzie found that much of her day was spent sat behind the counter, moodily staring into space.  
Before Fred came back into her life, she’d tried to fill that time with crafts but ultimately, she’d found that she got very little joy from creating things. 

Destroying things? Far more entertaining.

Fred had also found that since his full faculties had returned he’d had little patience for hanging around the store all day everyday, and he and that “ghost with the most” from up the hill spent a lot of their time terrorising the “other side” together. But occasionally, Fred took time off from his busy schedule of anarchy to pester Lizzie in the store.

Pestering Lizzie usually manifested in one of three ways.

Firstly, Lizzie would be attending a customer, patiently smiling as the ancient residents of Winter River prattled on about their lives. And then a streak of grease would appear on the customer’s faces. Or a display would topple over in the back of the store. Or the lights would flicker ominously. 

This would spook the customer enough to leave, and Fred would appear in his usual jangle of chords and he’d eagerly suggest they go on an adventure together.

Secondly, Lizzie would be alone, taking inventory for the millionth time, and find her numbers no longer adding up. The limitation of messing with her was that she would easily see through his games now she knew the true nature of the being she was head over heels for. The streaks of green on plain white paper gave him away more effectively than the scent of metallic lemon zest in the air that lingered wherever he went. She just had to call for him three times and there he’d be, put out his little trick didn’t work, but spinning her up and into his arms as he peppered her face with kisses.

This usually happened when she sent him away, which only happened when he’d done something to really piss her off. He’d reach out from the other side to mess with her, but the effect was negated by the thick wall between life and death. She’d usually wait a day or so to bring him back...not that it ever taught him a lesson.

The third way Fred found to pester her was one that Lizzie couldn’t bring to scold him over too much.

“F-Fred?” Lizzie shivered as she felt her simple summer dress sliding up her bare legs, phantom hands greedily caressing her calves until she found herself parting them.

She’d feel rather than see, a wild mass of hair tickling her inner thighs, a head shape forming under the fabric of her dress. A snap of mischievous fingers against her simple panties.

Lizzie was fairly certain of her invisible boyfriend’s oral fixation by now. A broad wet lick against her centre through the fabric was proof.

This method of pestering was by far her favourite. Not that she had to tell him that. There was something so dangerous about the fact that a customer could come into the store at any moment and see her flushed face and arched back.

Living with an invisible boyfriend might have it’s problems but by Juno it had it’s benefits too.


End file.
